Inside the Jar
by purplefern
Summary: So, the Pulverizer AKA Timothy had been through a lot lately. He's pretty stressed and a lot of things are going through his mind.


_I'm trying my hand at writing a depressing-like fanfiction. If you've read a couple of my other fanfictions, you might notice that I like to write about "the other guy's" perspective, like with Rockwell or Dogpound. Everyone's writing about an angsty Donnie because of the whole Pulverizer Returns thing. But Pulverizer is having his problems, too. So I decided to write about his perspective. Another story where I started with one thing and it just sort of flew off in another direction without me quite knowing how the shell it got there. _

_He was beating up baddies like no one's business, taking down all of them with his amazing combat skills. When all of them were down, he turned around, and saw Donnie standing there. "Hey, Donnie!" he yelled, waving, but Donnie didn't seem to hear him. "Timothy, don't!" he yelled. _

"_What are you talking about, Donnie? I'm fine." Then Donnie was kneeling off to the side of him, and, was he crying? "Why didn't you listen to me? Then this wouldn't of happened.." Pulverizer tried to respond, but couldn't say anything. He looked down, and saw his organs stretched out in front of him. He tried to scream, but he couldn't make a sound. _

Pulverizer woke with a start, expecting to wake in his room, and be comforted by the fact that this was just a dream, a nightmare. But as he looked around the room he was in, cold, hard reality slapped him across the face. Or least, where his face would be if he still had one. He wasn't safe at home, and that dream wasn't just a nightmare, not completely. At a sound to his left, Pulverizer glanced over there to see Donnie sitting at his lab table, where he'd been for the past few days. At first, Pulverizer was comforted by the presence of his friend, Donatello, but then guilt shot through him as he realized how horrible he looked. He looked exhausted and like he was about to either cry or punch something any second. Had he even left that desk? Though most of Pulverizer's time had been spent sleeping, every time he woke up, Donnie was there at the lab table, working on a solution. A solution to a problem that Pulverizer had caused with his own stupidity. He wished that he could comfort Donnie; tell him that none of this was his fault. Wished that he could walk over to him and give him a comforting hug that wouldn't start to burn his skin. Wishes hardly ever came true, and even when they did, they didn't always come true the way you wanted them to. Pulverizer knew this from personal experience. All his life he wanted to be something different, like a super-hero! He got his wish, but nothing like the way he wanted. Having nothing to do, he looked back over to Donnie, hoping that he would have something to say. It'd be a one sided conversation, but that would be better than all of these depressing thoughts. Unfortunately, exhaustion had finally caught up with Donatello, and he was sound asleep at his desk. With no conversation to distract him, the thoughts came pouring in. Were his parents worried about him? Had they anxiously called the police when their son didn't come home from his night with his "club"? He never told them about his joining the Foot clan. Did the people at school miss him? The teachers, maybe, but not his classmates. They only ever made fun of him anyway. Fatty, geek, nerd, loser, he'd heard it all. Now, being made fun of for having a fat body seemed great; at least then he had a body.

Gradually, his thoughts fell silent, and it was then that he could notice a disturbingly familiar sound. _Lub-dub, lub-dub._ Startled, Pulverizer looked around the lab, trying to find what was making the noise, while combing his mind for where he had heard that sound before. Looking down in concentration, he noticed something in the corner of his eye. It was with a sickening sense of reality that he figured out that he was hearing the sound of a human heart beat. His heart beat. Not only that, he could see his heart as it was making the sound. If reality hadn't sunk in before it certainly had now. He wanted to throw up, or crawl under his covers until this nightmare went away, but all he could do was float there; looking around and thinking, or sleep. Thinking caused too much pain, so he gave himself to restless oblivion and slept.

_(my shocked face -)_O_o _I didn't know I could write that dark. Whoa, I'm starting to scare myself._


End file.
